Burning To Cinders

Patterns and Parcels

The pattern formed quickly in the next few weeks, as most things do when you’re resigned to them. She would rise early, the morning’s stars still showing through her window. Sparing little time to brush out her blond hair and tuck it beneath a kerchief, she’d quietly make her way down to the kitchens and set to preparing breakfast. Often she barely managed a bite or two of a bread roll before the room bells rang. This morning was no different. As the bells rang she wrapped her breakfast up with a sigh, stashing it away in the futile hope of returning to it later. Balancing the trays she quickly made her way up stairs, out of the servants quarters- her own quarters. Most mornings she would dart in, placing the tray on the dressing tables and dart back out. Head down all the while, steadfast ignoring the string of abuse and complaints that followed her. Her stepmother would normally greet her with a stony silence, going about what she was doing without showing any acknowledgement. Yet this morning, as Cindy went to dart out of the room she so hated, her stepmother cleared her throat loudly.

“Cynthia, you will wait a moment,” Freezing, her hand resting lightly on the door handle, she withheld a sigh. Drawing in a deep breath she turned, plastering a pleasant smile across her features.

“Yes Stepmother?” She loathed the sound of her voice, how high and biddable it sounded.

“Open my curtains, I want to see you while we speak,” Nodding Cindy quickly drew back the large curtains, keeping her gaze averted from her stepmother, still in bed. She didn’t want to see the left side still made up, her father’s absence resounding in the still smooth sheets.But her stepmother’s voice forced her head up, to view the bed that was so large for a single person. Battling back the surge of emotion that always followed thoughts of her father, Cindy forced herself to focus on her stepmother’s disdainful tone.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Her stepmother demanded, blinking Cindy tried to recall anything her stepmother had said while she’d been thinking. She shook her head slowly.

“I’m sorry Stepmother, I was… elsewhere, pray repeat yourself?” Sighing in frustration, her stepmother snapped at her.

“You stupid girl! You obviously follow your father!” Cindy bit her tongue sharply, twisting her hands in her apron to hide the fists they’d become, “I said, that as I took tea with Marsella yesterday, she shared that you had been speaking with Prince Charmon,” Cindy merely blinked again, recalling the woman Marsella, another woman from a wealthy family in the village. Her silence causing her stepmother to narrow her eyes. “I tried to persuade her that he would never waste his time with the likes of you, but she was quite adamant,” Her stepmother sneered at her, and Cindy fought the impulse to roll her eyes.

“I cannot recall any such meeting,” Cindy lied, hoping for her stepmother to accept the truth she wanted, but her stepmother’s face darkened.

“How dare you lie to me!” She screeched, throwing the cup containing the still scalding tea. Cindy cried out despite herself as the liquid splashed across the arm that came up to protect her face. Rubbing it viciously, she glared at her stepmother, who was once again composed. “He spoke to you at your father’s funeral, what did he say?” Cindy’s temper rose, and she spat out the words without thought.

“That is none of your concern!” Other than her rising colour, her stepmother did not react openly again, keeping a cool look.

“You will tell me or I will throw you to the street as you stand,” The calm assurance of her tone sent a thrill through Cindy, and her anger fled, a cold terror in its place. Softening her glare, she dropped her eyes to her feet.

“He offered me condolences over father’s death,” She said softly, glancing up at her stepmother’s demanding tone.

“And?” Sighing Cindy divulged the rest.

“He asked me to dinner to reminisce,” Cindy spat the word, as if it were a cuss. The look her stepmother was giving her was something akin to wonder, viewing her as if a foreign specie she had not yet laid eyes upon before. Within a blink it was gone, replaced with her normal aloofness.

“And your reply?” She asked, arching a shapely brow. Cindy tilted her head slightly at this; there was more than mild interest in her stepmother’s eyes, hard as she may try to conceal it.

“I informed him of my busy schedule,” She said slowly, furrowing her brow at her stepmother’s indignant expression.

“You did what!” Her stepmothers control was gone; the temper that still stung Cindy’s arms reappearing. Taking a slight step backward Cindy felt her own temper rising to match.

“I refused him!” She snapped “Surely you should be pleased, since it is Anna or Drea he is to marry,” She added mockingly, referring to her stepsisters.Her stepmothers face was such a red that she put the ripest tomatoes to shame, and Cindy felt considerable satisfaction in watching her stepmother’s mouth open and close mutely. Finally she let out a strangled scream that caused Cindy to take yet another retreating step toward the door.

“You, how- how DARE you!” She finally screamed, grabbing her blankets as if to throw them off, instead she clutched them tighter, knuckles straining white. “You have disgraced our family you stupid girl! You refused a prince, whose wealth, whose status could have made our lives!”

“I want nothing of him!” Cindy found herself all but bellow back. “Marry him to Anna, give him Drea, I will not have him!”

“You will have him or you will have nothing!” Her stepmother screeched and the words tumbled out of Cindy’s mouth before she could even wish to recall them

“I would die first! Starve on the streets before I went near him!” The silence that followed the statement was palpable. Her chest heaving, Cindy fixed a deathly glare on her stepmother, refusing to regret her outburst. Seconds stretched to minutes, and finally her mother broke the stalemate. Throwing back the covers, she slid out of the bed, walking around past Cindy to her desk. Locking eyes with Cindy she put a hand down the front of her nightgown, drawing out a key that hung on a silver chain around her neck. Turning away she quickly unlocked the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a parcel that knocked the wind from Cindy. Feeling the blood drain out of face she stared helplessly at the parcel of parchment her stepmother held, tied tightly together with a blue hair ribbon. She did not see the victorious smile curve her stepmothers face, too focused on the parcel. The binding ribbon had been her mothers, the stained parchment a collection of letters that formed the only link between Cindy and her dead mother. The only piece of her Cindy had left.

“How did you get those?” Cindy whispered, hoarse to her own ears. Her stepmother ignored the question, flicking her fingers of the corners of the pages.

“There is a ball tonight, celebrating the princes permanent homecoming,” She mused, holding Cindy captivated as her long wiry fingers continued to trace Cindy’s most precious possession. “Naturally our household has received an invitation,” Her fingers stopped abruptly and she fixed Cindy with a cold, pointed stare. “You will attend Cynthia,” A streak of defiance sprang forth in her, but before she could protest her stepmother cut her off. “Or I will burn these,”

“No!” Cindy cried, stepping forward with a hand outstretched. Eyes burning as she fought back tears. In two quick movements her stepmother dropped the letters into the drawer and locked it.

“Yes, now go and do todays chores. You will also have to go into town to collect you and your sister’s dresses for tonight. Make sure have time to bathe,” Her voice was firm and Cindy nodded dully, retreating from the room, stopping only to scoop up the shards of the broken teacup.